


Unknown

by sonshineandshowers



Series: After [2]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Post 1x10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:28:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22093348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonshineandshowers/pseuds/sonshineandshowers
Summary: When Malcolm isn't up to going to the station to help with a case, the team goes to him.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo & Malcolm Bright, Malcolm Bright & Dani Powell, Malcolm Bright & JT Tarmel
Series: After [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1590250
Comments: 8
Kudos: 89





	Unknown

Consequences. Running after a suspicion carried black and blue, broken and screwed consequences. But the pieces didn't quite fit back together the same, each time rearranged revealing bare edges unaccustomed to the elements. Grating where they were forced together, wearing thin.

The phrase “I don’t know” brought the most agita to everyone’s minds. Each pair of eyes gaping back at him peeled through every layer to his soul, searching for any sign of rescinding his statement. Finding none.

Was their shock because he often spoke with such certainty? Affirmation that his point of view had considered all options and determined his marching words best? Or did it ride on tails of realization that his standard answer of fine had been replaced with something less than? That for all the times he had been less than, this was the rare occasion his voice reflected it.

Life was a series of transfers: bed to floor, floor to couch, couch to world. The size of the world varied: sometimes the neighborhood, sometimes the city and beyond, sometimes the apartment. Some days the world wasn't reachable.

The team had made their way to his apartment because he couldn’t make it out. Strained with surviving, his engine cut at the couch, sputtering into the corner so the arm and back could keep him upright. Gil had promised they would come to him when needed, so with the sweep of “overdid it yesterday,” they left the station and circled, staring back at him.

“Do you feel up to this today?” Gil rephrased their initial inquiry of how he felt.

“I don’t know,” Malcolm repeated.

He closed his eyes, yet their gazes remained. His arms crossed his middle, one in a cast and the other holding his bandaged side. No position was comfortable.

“Two words: human piñata,” JT spoke. Anything to bring some life to the man.

“With a candy center?” Malcolm queried.

“Of course - how could it not?"

Malcolm opened his eyes to find Dani returning with a pillow that she propped between his side and the arm of the couch. The movement against his wound reminded him, “I need to take my pills.”

Gil retrieved the bottles and a glass of water. A series of twists and sips ensued, providing methodical rhythm to the room.

"We found the vic harnessed to a beam in the ceiling, beaten with a baseball bat until his innards spilled out," JT continued.

"Sooo...red hots?" Malcolm riffed.

JT shrugged. "I was thinking fireball, but that works."

"Never cared for either."

Malcolm closed his eyes again. He was discovering "how do you feel" involved a fair amount of pain.

"Aren't you supposed to eat with those?" Dani asked.

There were a lot of things he was supposed to do. By whose decree? His doctors', his mother's, his friends'? Certainly not his. "I'll make you some oatmeal," Gil indicated. A statement, not a request.

"If any of you are thirsty or hungry, Mother stocked the kitchen. Help yourself," Malcolm assumed hosting duties. The gesture would have been more convincing with his eyes open.

"Fair amount of strength to get him up there, right?" JT pulled his attention back to the case.

"What kind of harness?"

"One of those climbing ones. Rope too."

“Hoisted over the beam? Not as bad as lifting. Vic a climber?" Malcolm sighed, shifting in his seat.

"No."

"Doesn't seem opportunistic. Hard not seeing."

"I can help with that." JT sat next to him on the couch, removed a photo from a folder, and tapped it against his upper arm. Malcolm's eyes opened, seeking the disturbance.

"Food first," Dani held out a small bowl to him.

He reached for it and set it on his thigh, leaning into the pillow. The distance was too far for any semblance of manners, yet the sticky food was unlikely to fall, and it didn't come close to making the list of things the team cared about.

He took a tentative bite, carefully easing the food past the gates of his mouth and swallowing. Waiting for his stomach's protest of the invasion. "Photo," he said in between bites, and JT obliged, holding it in front of him.

"No chair, stool - nothing to stand on." He searched the rest of the room. "Nothing ransacked. Where's the bat?"

JT pulled out another photo. "Wood," Malcolm remarked.

"Not the common choice."

Malcolm wrapped his hand around himself again, twinging at a cramp. His measured breaths tried to settle his stomach, yet it wailed its disapproval. "Excuse me," whispered from his mouth, and he pushed up from the couch. The tortoise in a hare's race, he tottered for the bathroom, clutching his middle in discomfort. As soon as he closed the door, they heard retching from the other side.

"This was a terrible idea," Gil muttered, rubbing his goatee.

"I think we're actually helping," JT disagreed.

“Isn’t he supposed to be getting better?” Dani wondered.

Gil recalled their past forays through the rain and hours he was unable to move from a corner of his kitchen floor. “This is better.”

She wouldn’t find Malcolm’s photo under her definition of well. Functioning, maybe. Barely. The stark contrast between her friend and the shell before them was unsettling.

A soft voice sounded from the other room. "Gil?"

He walked toward the bathroom and found Malcolm leaning against the doorframe. Gil wrapped an arm around his waist, steadying him. "Can I get you to lay down?"

"It's worse. Couch."

Gil helped him toward the couch. "Dani, get another pillow," Gil called ahead.

Collectively, they got him cushioned into the couch and a glass of water into his hand. "Always the drama queen," Malcolm brushed away the attention, grimacing at the floor.

"Can we make you something...safer?" Dani asked.

"That was the safe option. Can't keep anything down."

Malcolm took his pills again, chasing them with water. He reached for the photo in JT's hands. “Weapon." And when it didn't have all he wanted to see, he added, "Vic."

A crinkle in his brow, he looked back and forth between the photos trying to envision the killer's movements. Dropping the photos, he pulled his arms back and mimicked the killer's swing. Fire lit his side, glowing up into his eyes. "F-uck." A rare utterance escaped his mouth, cursing his stupidity.

Consequences.

"Can you think before acting for once in your life?" Gil chided, his concern seeping into his voice as anger.

"Killer's lefty,” Malcolm eeked out on haggard breaths.

"No shit, Sherlock." JT had determined that quickly at the scene.

His other points were lost in the flames. Arson? Accidental? Environmental?

Eyes peeked through the fire. Did they need help? "What?” Malcolm asked.

Dani kneeled in front of him, resting her hand on his knee. "How about a break?" she repeated.

Only smoke dwindled, simultaneously stoked and abated by his breathing. “Sorry - hard to focus."

"We can go."

"Please, don't." He covered her hand in his first firm assertion of the day.

"More photos of the scene." JT slid them onto Malcolm's lap. "Maybe you can tell me something I don't know,” he teased.

"Gonna dig into the five flavors of coffee your mother brought. Any requests?" Dani squeezed his knee and stood.

"Real coffee." JT contributed, always looking for the closest thing to black coffee.

When Dani moved to the kitchen, Malcolm shared. "Thanks, JT."

JT let the compliment pass with a slight nod. “What can ya tell me about these knots?"

"Not a lot." Despite Malcolm’s attempt to keep a straight face, his humor leaked into a slight smirk.

“You start that, and I’ll find the quickest way for Gil to get us out of here,” JT threatened.

“Well, it’s true. Figure eight follow through - one of the most common climbing knots. Nothing special.” Malcolm pointed to another area of the photo. “If you ask about motive, things will get more interesting.”

Satisfied he had his attention for the time being, JT abandoned his prompts and offered, “How about you drive, then?”

“You don’t want me driving anything, but let’s give this a go.”

* * *

_fin_


End file.
